


Warmth

by auriadne



Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Established Relationship, Hand Jobs, M/M, Oral Sex, Reunion Sex, Set during the timeskip, Snowed In, Winter, with a domestic fluff feel
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-06
Updated: 2019-10-06
Packaged: 2020-11-26 01:55:48
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,027
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20922254
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/auriadne/pseuds/auriadne
Summary: Sylvain and Felix have a well-deserved reunion in the midst of a war.





	Warmth

**Author's Note:**

> I've been watching a lot of winter camping videos on yt lol

The branches groan and snap under the heavy snowfall that threatens to immobilize the army. Faerghus blizzards. There’s one thing the Empire forces can’t prepare for. Between the coup and the regular pressure from Sreng, Sylvain will take what relief he can get, even as double edged as nature can be.

The camp is quiet, chatter low from the last battle. Everyone is focused. Gathering wood to keep them through the night and the next day. Tents rustle and magic hums as the monks treat the wounded.

Felix falls in step beside him. He hasn’t seen him since the thick of battle where he tore through the Empire assault with the same speed and precision Sylvain remembers from years ago. He’s still splattered in the blood from battle, staining the deep teals of his overcoat.

“Are you sure it’s smart to stay here?” Felix asks. Snow flecks his hair and ruffles the fur of his collar. He huffs in a cloud of breath. The enemy is far from beaten, yet with the winds picking up and snow falling in thick drifts, Sylvain doubts they have the experience to make a move. They aren’t in the position to be travelling, anyways.

“With the convoys and the wounded, there’s no time. We’d never make it to the nearest town. We’re better off hunkering down for the night.”

He hopes he’s making the right call.

“Very well. I’ll relay it to my people.” Felix turns, looking back to him from the corner of his eyes. “I’ll stop by later tonight after I help chop wood for the fires.”

“Wouldn’t your time be better spent setting up camp? Who knows when the storm will pick up.”

Felix shrugs. “The soldiers will make better use of my tent. After all, you won’t object to me staying.”

“So scandalous. There will be talk, you know.” Sylvain is teasing, of course. Felix can take it.

“Let them talk. They can use the levity of noble drama.” Felix says, and his amusement is barely hidden behind tight pressed lips. A gloved hand flits up in a wave before he disappears to the farther reaches of camp.

* * *

Sylvain is unused to being kept waiting.

He’s stoked the fire of the small stove in his tent, keeping it to an agreeable warmth compared to the biting cold outside. He’s peeled off his own heavy armor, tending the minutia of his own injuries with the little bit of healing magic he picked up from Mercie. His hand hovers over the darkness of a bruise blooming on his forearm when the tent flap opens.

Felix’s face is splotched a deep red across his cheeks and nose as he rushes in, quickly tying the flap shut amidst the wind. He shakes the errant snow from his clothes at the entrance.

“Did they throw logs at you? I saw the way you sliced through them back at Garreg Mach. Flayn was always delighted.”

He scoffs. “Hardly. It’s not the time for things so… frivolous.”

Isn’t it? It’s all death and doom. Win the battle lose the war. With each passing day, they’re down supplies and soldiers while the Empire strikes with nigh endless resources chipping away slowly at the vast swath of land between Gautier and Fraldarius. It’s eating at morale, and taking on the responsibility of leadership, Sylvain feels it too, a darkness sinking to his core. 

But Felix came. That has to count for something.

He watches him- Sylvain has done a lot of that- as he unlaces the leather strapping those godly boots to his thighs.

“You’re a life saver.” He says fondly.

“I know.”

Felix finishes and begins to unhook the belts attaching his swords to his waist. He sets them carefully within arm’s reach, and now he is within arm’s reach. Sylvain takes the chance, his fingers twining into Felix’s coat to pull him closer.

“I missed you.” He says quietly. It’s reserved for him, and only a half truth. He’s far past simply _missing_ Felix. There’s a warmth in his chest, and it isn’t from the hot tea earlier.

“Me or my sword?”

“Bit of both, actually.”

He snorts. His hand settles on Sylvain’s drawing it from where he’s latched to his clothes. Clinging as if he lets go, Felix will disappear once again.

“You can thank my father for allowing me to leave Fraldarius territory.”

“I will.” He knows Felix is needed back home, just like he’s needed here. “Sorry, I know it’s not any better for you.”

“At least we’re not battling on two fronts. And-“ Felix is suddenly terribly interested in the flickering fire, face still flushed but this time not entirely from the cold. “I get the chance to see you.”

Sylvain knows there’s an unspoken worry between them. One they both share. That one day the letters will stop coming. One day the messenger running to camp will bear the news of failure, of death.

That one day it will be one of them who perishes on the battlefield.

Not today though. Today, Felix stands before him. Fire flickering in golden eyes, breath coming steady, assured, and very much alive.

Sylvain reaches. Yearning for a connection, for comfort and companionship- for as long as the war allows and for as long as Felix entertains his affections. His fingertips graze Felix’s cheek to tuck a strand of his messy hair behind his ear.

His eyes are honeyed, sentimental in his words. He knows Felix isn’t one for that sort of thing, but he’s far past pointed flirting. Instead, he’s being honest with his feelings. How absurd to think that someone would stay by his side for that.

“So soft hearted.” He teases.

Felix puffs out an indignant, “Am not.”

It only took a war for them to realize what truly mattered.

They danced around it for years. For Felix, strength was the penultimate goal, and to him, there was nothing else worthwhile. For Sylvain, nothing was worthwhile, and he spent all his energy misbehaving in the present to dull the wounds of the past.

Now, they’ve grown. They changed along with all of Fodlan.

“Felix.” He whispers, and its steeped deep with the strain of desire. He kisses the path of his fingers, lips brushing the sharp line of Felix’s jaw. Felix stiffens. A breath is wrenched tight from his throat- one he has been holding back.

Felix releases it and all the tension in a shove against his chest. Sylvain stumbles back on his feet. Felix follows him when he’s off guard, toeing himself closer to his own height- it’s cute, really- and his lips just barely brush Sylvain’s.

What a tease.

“Took you long enough to get to the point.”

With that, the tension snaps. Felix practically pounces, and Sylvain lets himself fall back with a laugh. He hits the bed roll, harder than the comfort of his own bed back in the Gautier Estate, and leans up on his elbows. Felix stands over him, already tearing off his coat with a single minded fervor he appreciates. To see Felix bearing any emotion that isn’t anger or annoyance- Sylvain must admit, it’s a nice sight.

Felix crashes on top of him. His weight shifts, knees hitting the bedding as he straddles his thighs. His palm pushes down, forcing Sylvain into the thick fur that covers his bed. His hips roll, grinding against his crotch, and making his intentions abundantly clear.

“And you said I was insatiable.” Sylvain grins.

And Felix almost does too. “Oh, shut it, Gautier. That was years ago.”

His mouth follows, fulfilling his own demand. Sylvain lets him, eagerly. He leans in, as much as Felix allows, with hands against him chasing the touch of his lips. They press to his, tongue slipping into his mouth, teeth clashing and nipping at his lips until they’re red.

“You really missed me, huh?” He gets out in a breath against the corner of Felix’s mouth, forehead pressed to his.

“Goddess, you-” Felix groans. He makes the same face he used to wear at the academy when insisting Sylvain was the source of all his headaches. “_Of course, I did_.”

“Aw, Felix. Tell me how much.”

His buttons are so easy to push. Sylvain doesn’t mean any harm in it, just a little bit of fun. Usually, Felix would grumble, call him an idiot, insufferable, something of that nature. However, that is not the reaction he gets today. The farthest thing from it actually.

Felix’s hand grazes the fast thrum of his pulse. His fingers draw underneath his jaw, tipping it up to meet him. His hair is pulled messy, from Sylvain’s own hands, sticking across his face. But his eyes, they’re so serious, so heavy, so _wanting._

“I’ll show you.” He says with a weight that feels more like a sucker punch.

Sylvain melts. Heat curls up his neck, flushing across his cheeks, and his normal clever comebacks and jibes are lost. He blinks once, and all he manages is a small, “Oh.”

“Clever.” Felix smirks. He scoots back, grabbing the waist of his pants. It’s freezing when he touches the skin exposed from Sylvain’s crumpled shirt.

“Don’t, uh-“ Sylvain breathes sharp through his nose when Felix begins to run the base of his palm over his clothed dick. He’s already half hard, mostly from the anticipation of Felix coming to him this night, but after saying that and looking at him with those eyes, the burn of stark arousal curls hot through his veins. It leaves him cloudy and hazed, gaping at Felix as he continues to grind against him.

He swallows back a groan when a hand slips into his pants. Icy fingers wrap around the heat of his length. Sylvain squirms, hips canting and heels digging into the bedroll. “Cold, cold-“ He mutters in quick repetition, and Felix clicks his tongue in disapproval. “I’m not complaining.” He whines while Felix’s nails drag lightly along the underside. He settles to tease at the swell of his head, thumb slipping over the beads of precum that spill forth.

Sylvain’s teeth clack hard. It’s been a while. War’s kept him busy. “Don’t stop, ah, doing that.”

As if solely to spite him, Felix does stop. Sylvain’s head flings back with a rumbling complaint bubbling from his throat.

“Don’t be so impatient.” Felix chastises. His breath comes out in hot puffs beneath his belly button. His mouth drags, never quite to the place he wants, biting marks along his inner thigh. The imprint of teeth left behind as a reminder for days to come.

Not that he minds, but he would mind something a bit more _substantial._

At the thought, Sylvain’s jaw clamps shut. Felix quells his anticipation, hitting him hard with the velvety heat of his mouth when his lips stretch around the width of his dick.

“_Felix.”_ He moans with a broken candor, bucking against his hands and mouth. He knows Felix loves it. The need and desire he’s able to wrench from him. Knowing that he’s good- after all, what is Felix bad at- and that he’s the only one to make Sylvain writhe.

His legs twitch, caging Felix in with heels that dig into his shoulders. Felix holds him in place. The crescent imprint of nails cut sharp into the meat of his thigh. His tongue flattens under the weight of his cock, ever so slightly applying the force of his teeth.

Felix pulls off with a sticky, messy sound. His hand slides along his length, cradling the side while his mouth trails kisses and tongue along him. His eyes flick up, more cognizant that Sylvain’s own. Sharp and interested, feeding off his heavy flush and the parted pant of Sylvain’s own mouth.

He smirks. It’s one Sylvain is intimately familiar with, though usually its when he’s at the end of a blade. 

“You win.” Sylvain mutters. Despite the fact, there has been no match between them.

Felix huffs a small laugh, and wipes at his mouth. It smears his lips messy, shiny with saliva and cum.

It’s all for him. The sight makes his chest swell. Among other areas.

His dick twitches beneath Felix’s touch and his tongue runs the length of it in a tantalizing, teasing stripe. Giving him a taste of pleasure, but not yet fully committing to it. Letting Sylvain squirm, toes curling and knees shaking for just a bit longer.

He's been a bad influence. But Sylvain doesn’t mind. In fact, he kind of adores it.

What did he ever do to deserve this? To deserve Felix?

His hand falls to Felix’s face. Thumbing tenderly a spot on Felix’s cheek, before diving into his hair. They wind in the softness of his dark hair. Not hard enough to hurt, but enough to pull.

Felix lets him. Allowing Sylvain to push his head down, urging him to take him fully. Sylvain’s body jerks when his nose hits the thatch of red hair at his base, sucking shallowly around him before setting to a steady rhythm as he slides along his length.

His breath is drawn to unsteady pants, and despite the cold, sweat beads along his forehead. It takes all his concentration not to pull his hands taut and slam himself down Felix’s throat.

Restraint. He has to remind himself of it sometimes. It can be nice. _This_ _is nice._ Its steady, comfortable. Buried in blankets with the storm raging outside. Only the small fire and their bodies pressed together keeping them warm.

Sylvain sighs. Goddess, he missed him.

He thinks it’s the kind of sexy domesticity that he dreams of after the war. In the times he actually entertains the possibility of an _after. _That this whole thing isn’t a fool’s errand driving them to their early graves.

No, he shouldn’t be thinking like this now. It’s a disservice to the luck he does have. That Felix is with him, even luckier with his mouth on his cock.

“Fe-“ Sylvain’s voice is ragged, coming out hot between the spread of his fingers clamped across his mouth. So that, perhaps not _everyone_ in camp will know what he sounds like getting his soul sucked out of him. “I’m so-“

Close.

It’s a tightness, winding his body and muscles in a tension. The precipice and edge of his arousal. Sylvain swallows deeply, hand scrambling in dark hair. Felix looks up once at a sharp pull, judging his reactions under the wrap and slide of his tongue. He slides back down, all the way, attempting to swallow around him. His throat constricts, the muscle pulsating around the head of his cock.

Goddess.

He bucks hard. Involuntarily. Pushing himself out of Felix’s controlled grasp.

His voice stifles a moan. The contorted syllables of Felix’s name are barely recognizable, and he spills over into the heat of Felix’s mouth.

Felix pulls off quick with a wet sound, sputtering out a cough.

In the seconds after when his brain is reduced to mere white noise, Sylvain stares at the fabric covering the top of the tent. It shifts and rattles at the pelt of heavy snowfall. A minute later and his breath and brain catch. He shoots up.

Felix is sitting back on his legs, composing his self and regulating his breath. He wipes at his mouth, tacky with cum.

Sylvain takes his hands, warming them in his own.

“You’re so beautiful.” He hums still riding off the pleasant post-orgasm feeling.

Felix rolls his eyes, his voice rough. “You’re only saying that because I sucked you off.”

“No, no.” Sylvain’s hand cups the side of Felix’s face. His eyebrows raise, a little surprised. More surprised when he kisses him, softly, affectionately, despite the taste of himself on his tongue. “_You are.”_

“Shut up, Sylvain.” Felix mutters weakly. His forearm is thrown between them, across his face to hide the burn that spreads across it.

“Never.” He coos and drags Felix up by his waist. His hand arches into his lower back, encouraging him to rut against him. He rocks Felix’s erection against the bared planes of his stomach, hand dipping between them to wrest him from his pants. He’s dripping. Cum slips between his fingers.

He strokes him fast and practiced. Felix is already too worked up. It won’t take much.

“Come on. Let go for me, too.”

Felix groans, eyes squeezed shut and teeth gnawing at his lower lip. It’s such a cute face. Though Sylvain knows he’d get skewered if he ever voiced that sentiment aloud.

“Sylvain-“ Felix keens. He bites a spot at the curve between his neck and shoulder. Tongue running along the bruised flesh while he thrusts unceremoniously into Sylvain’s fist.

Felix comes quickly in a strangled gasp, shooting ropes across his stomach and the mess they’ve already made of his pants.

His body goes slack, relaxing back down. He pants softly, head buried into the crook of his neck. Sylvain strokes his hair, and when he raises his head, catches him in a kiss. His arms pull tight, bringing Felix so close. He can feel his heart hammering in his chest as he kisses him deeply and rolls them both underneath the blankets.

* * *

Sylvain wakes up first in the morning. The fire’s gone out, and it’s absolutely freezing. Wind whistles through the trees around their camp. They’re not going to be making any headway for some time, if at all today.

Nonetheless, he pushes himself to his elbows, weighing the pros and cons of checking on the army right now.

Felix moves in a bundle of covers next to him. He blinks bleary in the morning light. “Quit moving so much.” He complains in a still sleepy mumble. His arms tug at his waist, burying him back in the blankets.

“I need to-“

“You don’t need to do shit. It’s still snowing. Send a message to camp if your conscious requires it, but you better get back here. It’s fucking freezing.”

“Want me to warm you up?”

“How many girls have you used that line on?”

“Eight, but this is the only time its mattered.”

“Flatterer.” Felix scoffs, yet it’s not disdain in his eyes but the spark of affection.

**Author's Note:**

> [ tumblr ](https://auriadne.tumblr.com/)   
[ twitter ](https://twitter.com/celesttea_)


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